


The Only Magic I'm Missing is You

by EveryWitchWay



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Eliot, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Lots of cuddles and A/B/O world building no one asked for, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Season/Series 01, Slow-ish burn, Teeny bit of angst, mostly set in Fillory, omega!quentin, typical A/B/O consent issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-11-28 02:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18202322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryWitchWay/pseuds/EveryWitchWay
Summary: When Quentin reveals that he hasn't actually presented as a secondary gender, Tick gives him a special Fillorian potion that will help reveal it. Only unbeknownst to them, Quentin was already in the process of presenting, and the elixir just slammed him into his first heat. With an important delegation arriving soon and court proceedings planned that Quentin must attend, who is going to help the omega manage his new urges?Why, the high king, who also just happens to be an alpha, of course.





	1. It’s Like a Fucking Curse

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So a few notes on this fic - Firstly, I know some of my irl friends follow/used to follow my account, so if you've stumbled across this, for my own sanity (and yours) I beg of you not to read it. I'd like to still be able to look you in the eye in the future, and I'm not sure if I can do that if you've read my kinky A/B/O porn fic.  
> Secondly, the word 'gender' is thrown around some in this fic in regards to A/B/O dynamics. I want to make it clearly that while A/B/O 'gender' is biological in this fic, that's not reflective of any belief I have about regular gender in real life. (Sex being biological, gender being cultural.) Just putting that out their for anyone who's sensitive to gender issues who's reading this fic.  
> Third, this fic takes place in a slightly AU timeline where the Beast was killed at the end of season one, and the characters are enjoying a nice 'peaceful' moment of being troubled by nothing more then the normal concerns of monarchies. Or so they think.  
> Lastly, even though this fic popped into my head mostly as a porn fic, there's inevitably going to be some plot, because I love a good plot and world-building. Hopefully you do too. So thanks for checking out my fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Even though Quentin was disappointed he wasn’t the true high king, he wasn’t actually surprised. He was twenty-two and still unpresented, and the role of high king was jam-packed with expectations of ‘destiny’ and ‘power’ that reeked of something reserved for an alpha.

An alpha like Eliot.

Eliot wasn’t a traditional alpha, who were stereotypically all oblivious and obnoxious muscle-men shoving their strength around to get what they want. Yet, he still had that air of unquestionable authority people expected from alphas. Quentin had no doubt about what his secondary gender was when he saw him lounging outside of Breakbills that first day, elegantly draped across the wall like he owned the place. He moved with a certain majesty and aloofness that captured a room. Quentin had seen even the self-proclaimed toughest of rowdy first-years shrink back in Eliot’s presence.

He already ruled the entire physical kids house, so of course he would be the one whose destiny was to command a kingdom.

Quentin had even less reason to be bitter when he accounted for the fact that even though ruling wasn’t his ‘destiny’, that, because of Eliot, he still got to be a Fillorian king.

So why did something inside him still feel so hollow and unfulfilled?

Quentin was sitting in the throne room twirling an empty royal goblet in his hands, pretending to examine the intricate designs crafted into it as he actually contemplated his brain’s latest rebellion against his happiness. He would’ve simply written off as another depressive patch, but it was… deeper then that. Ever since entering Brakebills, he’d been able to keep his mental condition in check to a degree where the most his anxieties plagued him was an occasional few days of feeling extra ‘done’ with the world. This felt like an emptiness at his core, craving something to fill it. Not simple numb sadness. He’d blame it on another throne curse if it wasn’t for the fact that he now checked his seat with a few revealing spells every time before he sat down.

The quick steps of nervous approaching feet broke him out of his contemplation. Tick stood before him, wringing his hands.

“Your majesty?” His eyes landed on the cup in Quentin’s hands. “Would you care for more wine?”

Quentin shook his head. “Um, no, thank you, I’m fine.” It was a tempting offer, but unlike Eliot, he dealt with his issues with more self-pitying sulking, less drinking.

Tick’s nervous hand-wringing increased. “Are you certain? There are some particular sensitive issues that must be discussed, and perhaps if your majesty had more wine, he would feel more comfortable talking about them-”

Quentin’s brow furrowed. “If there’s something you need to tell me, you can just say it.”

He was a bit worried now. Glancing around the throne room, he was saw that it was still empty. Eliot and Margo were off being fitted with new outfits worthy of a high king and queen in anticipation of an arriving delegation, and Alice was no doubt off enjoying the spoils of a new large library to explore. It didn’t seem right that he was being addressed regarding anything important without them. True, he was a king in his own right, but usually he was only consulted when someone wanted a third, or fourth, opinion on matters.

“It’s regarding what I believe you call on earth your ‘secondary gender’. You see, the Sunerian delegation arriving later this week has some very specific ideas about how alphas, betas, and omegas should dress.” Tick’s level of discomfort with the conversation seemed to be increasing as he spoke. “Right now, we’re having a bit of trouble finding a suitable outfit for your majesty, as it seems we’re not exactly certain what your secondary gender actually _is_.”

Something on Quentin’s face must’ve shifted without him realizing it, as Tick hurried to add, “Of course, we would never be so invasive to ask your majesty such a personal question if it wasn’t essential. As you know, the Sunerian control the supply of oil for both lamps and cooking, and it’s crucial that they think of us as equals so we can continue to trade with them, which is why we have to show respect to their customs. Also, there are also protocols regarding dynamic behavior in the Sunerian religion to be discussed-”

Quentin cut him off before he could continue. “Yeah, um, I get that. That it’s important. But the thing is that I’m not really sure any of that applies to me?” Quentin shifted in his seat anxiously as the confusion on Tick’s face intensified. “I, um, haven’t actually presented… as anything.” Quentin finished lamely.

A physical weight of nervousness seemed to lift off of Tick, even as his face lit up. “Truly? Is that all it is? We were worried that you had been cursed impotent by the purple popflies of the bandiland briar marsh or some other sort of mystical malady.”

Quentin was startled, and maybe a tiny bit offended, by how relieved Tick was to hear that no, he hadn’t been struck by colorful magic bugs or whatever other weirdness Fillory had to offer, his body had managed to fuck up his dynamic all on its own.

“Um, yeah, no flies, just me. So what does that mean? Am I exempt from the rules?”

“Unfortunately, no. Actually, without a dynamic, the Sunerians will likely see you as an abomination and an offense to their religious morals and either call for your execution or break off all relations with Fillory. But there is good news.”

“ _How_ is there good news?!”

“Because of the low constant opium content in Fillory’s air, it’s not uncommon for young Fillorians to have trouble presenting here. We long ago developed a potion that we use to treat anyone with an unrevealed dynamic who is past the normal age of presenting. It sometimes leads to an initial, say we say, exacerbation, of some gendered traits, but it fades within the first few weeks.”

Quentin heart began racing. It couldn’t be that easy. “So you’re saying all I have to do is take this potion, and I’ll immediately know what my secondary gender is?”

“Well, it takes a about a day to take effect. Since the delegation is arriving in less then three, the best option would be to give you the potion now and then brief you on the customs for all the dynamics, at least until we discover which applies to you. Or, -” Tick mouth scrunched back up into a stressed line for a moment. “If you’d prefer, you could always choose to leave Whitespire while the delegation is here. There’s a chance that they’ll still be offended and it’ll affect the negotiations, but won’t be enough for them to start a war with Fillory.”

Quentin felt like his brain was about to short out. He had (sullenly) come to terms with his unfortunate dynamic situation long ago. When he woke up this morning, he hadn’t expected to be offered the chance to have his world turned upside down. As much as he disliked, and was frequently embarrassed by, his lack of a secondary gender, it was all he knew. His had spent years programming his mind and body to navigate the biological inconvenience, and the prospect of having to relearn all of that was daunting. He certainly didn’t want to experience that while facing a group of outsiders with whom his interactions in part the fate of the kingdom hinged on.

But then again. He knew if he took the easy way out and put off making the choice by fleeing into the woods for the next week, life would become much more difficult for his fellow royalty. He vividly remembers when he first arrived back in Fillory, popping into the throne room via Penny and catching Elliot unaware. He had been pouring over economic documents, one hand tangled in his dark curls while his crown rested on the table beside him. The typical shadows that lingered under his eyes had seemed a little deeper in the candlelight. In that moment, even though he had somehow managed to look no less majestic, he had appeared much less like a king and more like an ordinary stressed graduate student cramming for a big exam. He supposed that in some ways the situation was like a test, only the stakes were a bit higher then a pass/fall mark.

Elliot – and the rest of his friends – had been through enough lately without him adding to that stress. Besides, whether it was now or later, Quentin was certain that in the end he’d eventually chose to take the potion. He knew he wanted to have his dynamic, the only real question was how much more time and stress he was going to put himself, and in this case his friends, through before he let himself have it. It wasn’t going to be easy, but goddammit, he had helped slay the Beast, and he was technically a king of Fillory now. He might as well make at least one decision where he acted like it.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll take the potion. What do I need to do?”

Tick, who had resumed this anxious shuffling during Quentin’s moment of hesitation, seemed to barely resist jumping up into the air in joy. “Excellent! There’s nothing special you need to do right now, but if I could just take that for a moment-” He plucked the wine goblet from Quentin hand, and before Quentin even had time to react, was scurrying off. Headed to wherever they kept the secret magic gender potion, he supposed. The thought that this was going to happen right now, with so little prelude, almost got his anxieties sputtering to life again, but before they had time to fully start up, Tick appeared back in the chamber.

“Here you are, your majesty.” He thrust the goblet at Quentin with two hands. It was now full of an opaque blue liquid with glittery trails of red and yellow swirling through it. He took it reluctantly from Tick’s hands.

“Um, it certainly is colorful.” Up close, the glitter was even more prominent. He thought it looked a bit like unicorn puke.

“That would be the sparkling snail slime.” Tick added helpful.

“The wha- Actually no, please don’t tell me.” Quentin said, slightly horrified, but also weirdly comforted by Fillory being, well, Fillory.

And it was time to take advantage of Fillory’s weirdness to solve one of his life-long issues. Even if it maybe meant the start of another. Resolutely trying not to think of how glittering slug slime could possibly be harvested, Quentin tipped the goblet up to his lips.

“Well, bottom’s up.”


	2. Imagine That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Quentin over thinks, but still somehow seems to miss the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a shorter chapter, but it felt like a natural place for this to end/leave a cliffhanger. Be ye warned, this is where the sexually explicit content starts up.  
> Also, one important thing to note is that in this version of the timeline, Margo and Quentin and Eliot never slept together, and Quentin and Alice broke up for other reasons. Having them already have slept together didn't feel right for the dynamic I was going for in this fic.

Quentin fell into the bed, exhausted. From the minute he had finished draining the cup of the potion – which had tasted of a bizarre combination of cotton candy and fresh-cut grass – Tick had launched into action. The remainder of his day had involved being swept from place to place to have articles of clothing of various styles and fits tested on him, all the while Tick continuing to list off various random and occasionally what seemed to be contradictory rules of etiquette for Sunerian alphas, omegas, and betas. Quentin had tried to pay attention, but whenever he wasn’t focusing on whatever pose the irritated tailor attending him wanted him to strike, his mind was anxiously wandering back to thoughts of his dynamic. Every little twinge or creak he felt in his body sent his brain spinning, wondering if it was the first of the changes that would signal the emergence of his secondary gender.

He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. He didn’t remember a lot of what his high school health class had tried to teach him about the sex and gender. Most of the class he had spent attempting to sneakily read bits of ‘Fillory and Further’ under his desk in order to distract himself from the graying teacher at the front the room speaking in a disaffected voice about who had a penis and where they should and shouldn’t put it. Needless to say, he really didn’t learn much of anything in that class.

When his friends all started to present throughout late high school and college, Quentin had finally started paying attention. But by that point, he had realized he had fallen pretty far behind everyone else on the gender development track and was too embarrassed to broach the topic with any of his friends. Not that he had many close friends aside from James and Julia, and there was no way he was going to discuss how it felt to have your genitals change with them. Now he was stuck in internet-less Fillory facing down the effects of a magical gender potion with no Google to help him frantically cram twenty-some odd years of missing gender knowledge into the space of a few hours.

He really didn’t have time for it anyways. Whenever Tick caught him staring distractedly off into distance, he would begin to quiz him on etiquette, as if he was worried it would all slip out of his brain when he wasn’t paying attention. To his credit, a lot of it did, but mostly because he just didn’t have the energy or motivation to remember the sixteen different sets of table manners for alphas that shifted with the alignment of the sun. Besides, he didn’t really think he was going to present as an alpha anyways. He never said as much, but Tick must have thought so as well, as he spent considerably less time talking about alpha etiquette then the other dynamics.

In some ways, Quentin was glad. Even though alphas easily commanded a certain amount of respect Quentin had always been a bit jealous of, he had never been envious of the expectations people placed on them. It seemed Sunerian culture was no different in this regard, as it put alphas at the head of most of their rituals. Alphas were the ones who lead toasts, moderated discussions, and apparently, in Suneria, got the final word on the amount of squash grown in a season.

Not that the other genders seemed to fair much better. He had been expecting some outdated ideas about omegas to be floating around in Fillory, but the number of archaic concepts and rules Tick had spouted off was shocking. Apparently, omegas in Suneria still weren’t supposed to speak unless spoken too. His thoughts wandered to Penny, an omega who was openly vocal about any and every complaint he had about Quentin. It was definitely for the best that Penny wouldn’t be here when the Sunerians arrived.

Quentin groaned, twisting around in his sheets, unable to get comfortable. As tired as he was from the long day, it seemed his body was unwilling to let him rest. He could still feel that lingering emptiness inside him that had originally driven him to moping in the throne room. He had hoped that if nothing else emerging as his dynamic would help settle that particular bit of anxiousness inside him, but so far there was no luck. Worse, what if he had already presented as something more subtle, like a beta, throughout the course of the day and nothing had changed? He wasn’t sure it how he felt about the idea of finally receiving his dynamic like he had wanted for so long, only to find it as underwhelming as everything else in his life.

The idea of getting up and trying to find his friends crossed his mind for a moment, despite the late hour and his lack of knowledge about where their rooms were. He hadn’t seen any of them all day, as he had been too busy being herded around by Tick. Even if he didn’t discuss the intricacies of his gender problem with them, just being able to talk to any one of them to get his mind off the stress would be nice. Except, maybe not Alice. After defeating the Beast, they had realized they were just too different of people to make a good couple, and even though they had resolved to remain friends, they were still on slightly rocky terms. Margo had made an effort to a little more decent to him after the crowning ceremony, but they had still never been that close. Eliot, however…

The thought of Eliot made his stomach twist, and not in a bad way. The moment Eliot’s name had crossed his mind something a bit like an electric shock had passed through his lower abdomen. He had always known the other man was objectively attractive, and the night they had gotten drunk while recovering from the emotion bottles, he had caught the Eliot looking at him more than once. Nothing had happened that night, mostly because Quentin was so firm in his belief that an alpha like Eliot would never want a genderless nothing like himself.

But the sudden thump of desire coursing through him at just the thought of Eliot made him consider it further. What it would be like to have Eliot slide up behind him at a party in the physical kids cottage and wrap his hands around his hips. The feeling of those long fingers pressed into his sides, and his warm breath against the back of his neck as he whispered a husky suggestion to find somewhere a little more private upstairs.

A shiver passed over Quentin, almost as if he could feel it happening in real time. He was starting to fatten up a bit under the covers, his dick rubbing pleasantly against the sheets. His mind wandered back to his fantasy with Eliot, now moved to the senior student’s room upstairs. He imagined that as soon as they entered the room, Eliot would be so impatient he’d already have him pressed up against the door the moment it closed, kissing him. Quentin wondered if his lips were so soft as they looked, and what it would feel like to tangle his hands in Eliot’s dark curls as they kissed. If his kisses would be hasty and hot, or slow and dirty, full of tongue. Unable to resist the growing fire of lust in him, he reached under the covers to take his cock in hand. The first touch felt better then it had any right too, and he just barely remembered to suppress his groan in the crowded castle. As he began to stroke, he thought about how much better it would feel if it was Eliot’s hand on him instead of his own. How Eliot would lay him out on the bed before undressing him his and then taking him in hand, somehow knowing just how to touch. The way he’d looked in his eyes and smirk as if he knew what Quentin wanted before he even knew he wanted it. He could picture Eliot kissing him passionately down his chest, leaving little wet marks, before reaching his groin. The thought of Eliot confidently swallowing him down, eyes locked with his the entire time, had him quickening his strokes.

Quentin was flushed and panting now, his entire body felt hot and heavy with the fantasy. He knew he should feel more embarrassed about imagining one of his best friends in such a way, but he was too far gone now to feel anything but raging want. Still, it felt like something was missing, one more little motion that would tip him over the edge. In his mind, imaginary Eliot seemed to realize this too, and pulled off one of the hands that had been holding open his shaking thighs to lightly stroke his balls, before moving back to press against his hole. Quentin drew in a sharp breath at the thought and moved his own fingers to mimic the motion. One finger slid in easily, another following quickly, making wet sounds in the dark of his room. The thought of Eliot being the one thrusting his long, sinuous fingers inside, and then curling them up just so…

Just as Quentin was ready to burst, imaginary Eliot spoke for the first time.

“Are you going to come for me, little omega?”

Quentin did just that.

It took him a few moments to recover, but as he lay there processing what the fuck just happened, he took in his still-quaking thighs soaked with slick fluid and realized there could only be one explanation.

Well, shit.

He didn’t have to wonder what his gender was anymore, it looked like he’d finally gotten his answer.

He was an omega.


	3. Let Me Do This For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Quentin is still clueless, Eliot gets a shock, and everyone encounters the hormone monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I don't think I've ever written this much in this short of a time. (That's excluding late-night cramming sessions for work I procrastinated on.) I definitely have you guys to think in part for that, all the kudos and comments have been super encouraging. Unfortunately I don't think I'll be able to keep this pace up, since right now I have a lot of time because I'm on spring break, but soon I'll have to start thinking about writing final essays and my dissertation. Much less fun things.  
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter. No real hot and steamy times in this one, but patience my friends. The tension will pay off.  
> Also, if you want to follow me on tumblr, you can find me at [everywitchway-xviii](https://everywitchway-xviii.tumblr.com/) (my main blog) or [peaches-and-proof-of-concept](https://peaches-and-proof-of-concept.tumblr.com/) (my Magicians blog).

Quentin awoke in the early hours of the morning to the weight of a pile of his own clothes covering him. His head was pounding, likely due to the fact that he had hardly slept at all. After his little ‘epiphany’ last night - he blushed with embarrassment and a lingering bit of lust at the memory - falling asleep had been nearly impossible. Aside from the way his mind was practically eating itself with anxiety over the new revelation of his gender, his body was also keyed up in several new and slightly terrifying ways. Worry and stress had prevented him from falling back into masturbatory fantasies, but he could still feel the simmering desire lingering in the back of his mind, ready to pouch the moment he let his guard down. Was this how all omegas felt all the time? Was this his life now? Maybe that explained why Penny always seemed so grouchy. Repressing constant feelings of horniness had to get old after a while. 

He had only been able to finally steal a few hours of rest after only following a delirious, semi-conscious urge to remove all his clothes from his closet and dump them on his bed in a soft pile to cuddle into. He wasn’t totally sure what that was about, but he thought it had something to do with ‘nesting’, a term he’d heard thrown around about omegas, but wasn’t too certain what the implications of it were. 

Quentin’s growling stomach finally prompted him to shake off the remainder of his drowsiness and slink out of bed from under a particularly warm mound of sweaters. He stumbled a bit when he first stood up, his legs still feeling a bit weak and unsteady from the new and intense processes his body was going through. He wasn’t particularly eager to see anyone else today, but he had already snuck away from dinner last night in an effort to avoid more etiquette lessons from Tick, and he didn’t think he’d be able to get away with that again so soon. Beside, he was too wrung-out to try. Thinking of Tick reminded him that he still had a full day of lessons ahead of him, and he barely surprised a groan. He might as well get dressed and head to the royal dining room now; if he was lucky maybe he could steal a few moments of peace and quiet before the rest of the castle started to wake up.

———————————

Of course, Quentin was never lucky. He’d managed to use the cloth and water basin in his room to wipe off what he could of the slickness on his thighs and locate some loose and comfortable clothes to wear easily enough, but the moment he stepped out of his room any thoughts of a morning of solitude evaporated. Servants were already rushing up and down the hallways, most carrying cleaning supplies and some transporting decorations. Fillory might not be at its financial peak at the moment, but it seemed these Sunerian guests were important enough that they were getting all the special treatment Fillory could afford. The Sunerians had never been mentioned in the Fillory and Further books, so Quentin had been vaguely curious to meet them, before the whole magically-triggered second puberty issue had cropped up. 

Quentin hurried in the direction of the royal dining room, keeping his head down and trying to avoid attention as much as a minor king in his own castle could. Still, he could tell a few of the servants must have caught a whiff of his new scent, as he caught a couple of them stumbling and pausing for the slightest moment to give him a wide-eyed double take. The shock of the newness of the whole situation was still preventing him from thinking too clearly, but he did manage to file away the thought that he was going to have to get something to help manage his new strong scent. 

Quentin was relieved when he finally reached the double door of the dining room, where despite whatever new challenges awaited, there was at least certain to be hot food. His stomach grumbled again at the thought. He pushed open the doors, preparing himself for the inevitable onslaught from Tick, should he already be waiting. 

Tick was there. Only, he wasn’t alone. Eliot and Margo sat at the head of the table, lazily thumbing through documents while they drank a steaming cup of what Quentin recognizing as a thick tea that was the closest thing to coffee that Fillory had to offer. Quentin was surprised to see them, as usually the pair wasn’t up until ten am at the earliest. Based on the way Tick was already listing off last year’s tax earnings to the two of them, he supposed he wasn’t the only one getting pestered into working overtime. 

Tick, clearly more awake and alert then the high king and queen, caught sight of Quentin before they did.

“King Quentin! You’re awake! I told the servants not to bother you early this morning so that the potion would have more time to take effect, but now that you’re up please, join us. We have a lovely spread of sautéed sweet fish and scarlet songbird eggs for you to choose from.” He gestured at a platter of bright pink fish and deep red eggs nestled amongst other more familiar breakfast food items. “Then after breakfast we can resume your etiquette lessons, if your majesty so desires.” Tick said, in a pleasant tone that also managed to leave no doubt that lessons would be occurring whether Quentin desired them or not. 

Eliot, who had been too busy sipping tea from his mug while running a hand through his messy morning curls to really register Quentin’s arrival yet, frowned up at Tick.

“Potion? What potion are you talking about? When did you-” He froze mid-sentence, nostrils flaring as he clearly caught a whiff of Quentin’s potent new omega scent. His gaze swivelled abruptly to lock onto Quentin, brown eyes dilating heavily as he did. 

“ _Quentin.”_ Eliot said, in what sounded more like a punched-out exhale then actual words. No longer looking even the slightest bit sleepy, his whole body seem to tensely hone in on Quentin as if he were a beacon.   

Quentin knew that the alpha would be able to tell the difference, but he hasn’t expected a reaction like this. His body responded immediately, his stomach clenching as his legs began to feel increasingly unstable under him and a now-familiar wet feeling began to emerge on the back of his thighs again. He watched as Eliot gripped the edge of the table at what must be the thickening scent of omega, knuckles turning white.

“Holy fucking shit balls.”

Margo’s voice managed to break through the bubble that had captured the two of them for a moment. 

“Quentin, since when are you a fucking omega?” 

Clearly her own alpha senses had picked up on his new dynamic as well. Though she was also giving Quentin her unwavering attention, she didn’t seem nearly as affected as Eliot, whose face was contorted in something that almost looked like pain. 

“Um... since last night?” Quentin reached up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the attention now focused on him. 

“Okay. Explain. Not that we’re not happy you finally presented, Q, but this is a bit... sudden.” Eliot managed to get out, his voice rough. He at least had seemed to come back to himself enough to stop his fingers from digging into the table, but Quentin could still see a faint gleam of sweat on his forehead. 

“I believe that would be partially because of me, your majesties.” The three of them turned back to look at Tick, who they had all almost seemed to have forgotten was there in their initial hormone-filled exchange. Tick, a beta, was clearly less effected by Quentin’s scent, though he still seemed quite pleased to hear the news. Quentin supposed that to him it meant there was one less thing to worry about. If only it was that easy for him too.

“You see, I had to inquire to King Quentin about his gender yesterday, since the Sunerian delegation is arriving soon and, as you know, it’s crucial we observe their customs regarding dynamics. So I offered his majesty the chance to take a Fillorian gender revealing potion. It’s very standard, plenty of Fillorian youths have to take them at some point, and the side effects are usually very minimal-”

“Wait, what? You had Quentin take a magical potion to fuck with his biology just days before a bunch of strangers showed up on our doorstep?” Margo interrupted, a hint of rage emerging in her tone. Quentin was a bit taken aback. He had seen Margo angry before, but rarely was it in defensive of him. 

“Well, King Quentin wouldn’t have been able to participate in the negotiations otherwise. The Sunerians would have seen him as a heretic, and demand he be banished, or worse.” Tick said in a rush, suddenly seeming to realize that the others didn’t seem as delighted about the potion’s success as him. 

“As if we’d let outsiders tell us what to do.” Margo said, voice barely below a snarl. She’d had risen a bit out of her seat at that point, body straining towards a fearful-looking Tick.

“Bambi.” Eliot’s quiet but tense reprimand seemed to bring her back to herself. Apparently alpha hormones had started to get the best of her as well.

Before things could get any worse, Quentin chimed in. 

“Look, he didn’t make me take the potion, okay? It was my choice. I mean, the timing’s not great, but I’ve been waiting to know my dynamic for a long time, and this was my chance. I was going to take the offer for the potion sooner or later, so why not do it now so that I could stay in the castle and try to be of some use to you?” Quentin finished, shifting a bit at the end. His arms were crossed over his chest in a self-comforting gesture. Between the tension in the room from two amped-up alphas and the increasingly irritating slick staining his pants, he was starting to feel pretty uncomfortable. 

Margo and Eliot exchanged glances, communicating for a moment in that silent way of theirs. Clearly they knew something he didn’t.

Eliot turned to Quentin, expression softening. “Yes, but Quentin,” he said gently, “you’re going into heat. And it’s your first heat. I’m as much for omega equality for the next magician, but I’m not sure how much you’re going to be able to help us like this.” 

Quentin was stunned. He was... in heat? Or going into it, according to Eliot. He had never given much thought to what that would be like, but something in him must’ve assumed there would be more big flashing red warning signs. What the hell was he going to do now?

Probably sensing his shock and growing panic, Eliot hurriedly leapt in to speak again. “Okay. Action plan. This isn’t the end of the world, Q. We can help you handle this.” He turned to address Tick. “Send a rabbit to Penny. Tell him we have an emergency situation and we need him to bring supplies for a new omega. Suppressants, scent blockers, the works. Whatever he thinks will help.” 

Tick, looking eager to redeem himself, scurried off the moment Eliot finished speaking.

Quentin felt an immediate wave of relief rush over him. He no longer felt quite like had been tossed into an ocean alone and was trying to keep his head above water. It seemed there was a makeshift Eliot-shaped life raft there to help him. Something else, a more primal part of him, was excited by an alpha taking control. That part scared him a bit.

Margo looked a bit proud of Eliot’s quick thinking. “Smart. But suppressants take time to kick in. And there’s no guarantee they’re going to work since he’s already in pre-heat. That is if he even wants to take them.” She said, throwing Quentin a questioning look. 

Quentin cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah, um, I’d definitely prefer not to be in heat while trying to do political stuff for the first time. But what am I supposed to do if that doesn’t work? Tick said the Sunerians would be offended if I didn’t make an appearance, and that’s the whole reason I took this potion in the first place. I definitely don’t want to sit it out now if I can help it.”

Eliot quirked an eyebrow at him, looking a bit impressed with his guts. Quentin fought back a flush. 

He bit the corner of his lip, seeming to consider something. “Then we probably should talk about your options. And unlike me, I don’t think you’re the kind of person who enjoys discussing their sex life in public, so we should probably do this somewhere a little more private.” 

The words “ _somewhere a little more private_ ” rang a bit too close to Quentin’s fantasies from the night before, and he felt himself turn possibly even redder. 

“El...” Margo said, a clear note of warning and worry in her voice.  

Eliot dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry Bambi, it takes more than a little pre-heat omega pheromones to shake my rock solid self-control.”

Margo snorted.

Eliot gave an indignant little hmpfh in response as he stood, brushing the front of his elaborate royal tunic as he did so. 

Eliot begin to stride towards the door. Quentin, sensing this discussion might take a while, grabbed something that resembled a scone off the table to nibble on the way.

“So where are we going?” He asked, moving to follow Eliot.

“Somewhere no would  _dare_  disturb us. My private wine cellar.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Meanwhile, in a random grocery store back on Earth*  
> A messenger bunny, landing on top of the graham crackers in aisle nine: QUENTIN IN HEAT. COME HELP. BRING SUPPLIES.  
> Penny, who is just trying to catch a break and buy some goddamn Oreos: What the Fuck?


	4. Take Me On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot opens a bottle of wine, and Quentin tries to open up about his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few things here. I was going to have this chapter done sooner, but 4x13 WRECKED me. If you noticed that the title is a bit of the lyrics from “Take On Me”, yes, that is intentional, I’m reclaiming that song for something actually happy. (Plus, bonus: it does actually fit the theme of the chapter.) If any of you readers were shaken up by that finale, I’ve started a Post-4x13 Healing tag in my bookmarks if you want some good fix-it material. I’ll try not to say anymore about that for anyone avoiding spoilers.  
> You also might’ve noticed that I increased the chapter count. This is ending up being a bit more plotty then originally intended, so it’s going to stretch out a bit longer. Hope you guys are okay with that? It definitely (probably) won’t go past ten chapters, so hopefully it won’t feel too drawn out.  
> Finally, I feel a bit insecure about this chapter? I think it turned out decent, but I’m not 100% sure I hit the mark? Let me know what you think.  
> Anyways, thank you guys again so much for all your comments and bookmarks and kudos, your support is continuously blowing me away! Even if I don’t respond to every comment, know that I read them all and they make my day. I hope I can keep writing things you’ll enjoy. <3

 

Quentin hadn’t even seen the regular wine cellar, so he wasn’t quite sure what to expect of Eliot’s private one. To be fair, he hadn’t seen a lot of the castle. Most of the time he had been in Fillory up to this point had been spent either hunting The Beast, getting cursed by magic thrones, or, if he was being honest, moping. It’s not that he wasn’t excited to be in Fillory. It was the place he had escaped to in his mind for most of his childhood - and a significant portion of time afterwards. It just... wasn’t what he was expecting. For starters, the first quest they’d gone on had definitely involved 100% more god-spunk then he anticipated. Really never how he ever imagined meeting Ember. 

Still, he was sure there was _something_ about Fillory he’d find that would be just as wonderful as he’d hoped. But, for the past couple of weeks he’d been here, that gnawing, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach had only grow, leading him to do less deliberate exploring and more aimless wandering around the well-tread paths on the castle grounds. 

However, he was starting to get a sinking feeling that he knew where that empty sensation was stemming from.

Before he could contemplate that slightly terrifying notion further, Eliot stopped in front of a small wooden door.

“Don’t knock anything over going in. Apparently Fillory wasn’t familiar with the concept of proper alcohol storage before I arrived, so I’m afraid this tiny excuse of a closet was the best I could do for now.” Eliot said, seeming quite annoyed with the injustice of it all. With that, he swung open the door and ducked inside.

Quentin followed suit, stepping into darkness for a moment before a quick hand gesture from Eliot flared the lanterns to light. He took in the room, which was indeed small, but not quite as bad as he was expecting from Eliot’s haughty tone. There was enough room to fit the two of them semi-comfortably, along with a few half-filled wine racks, some with easily recognizable bottles that he was surprised to realize he knew from Earth. Others were unmarked bottles with the deep reds that were characteristic of most Fillorian wine. Only a few were clearly _not_ wine, but they stood out, mostly due to the fact that he could see bubbles roiling beneath the surface of a few of the glass containers. Quentin recalled Eliot complaining a few times about failed champagne attempts with messy end results and made an executive decision to steer clear of those bottles as much as possible. 

A popping noise brought his focus back to Eliot, who had uncorked one of the bottles of Earth wine and was pouring its contents into two metal Fillorian-style goblet. 

“Margo brought these to me as an apology gift for me being stuck here. Since it’ll probably take another epic fuck up on the part of destiny to convince her to pack-mule more of these over here, I’m determined get some decent champagne invented before they run out, but in the meantime... drink?” He held out a goblet in his ring-covered hand. 

Quentin hesitated. “Are you sure it’s the best idea for me to be drinking right now?”

Eliot took a sip of his own goblet in his other hand before answering. “Oh it definitely isn’t, but in my humble kingly opinion we might need it for the day we’re about to have.” 

Unable to argue with that, Quentin wordlessly accepted the cup, immediately taking a solid gulp as he did.  

Eliot tipped his head back, draining what had to be most of his glass in one gulp. Quentin tried to look anywhere but his bobbing throat. 

Eliot firmly sat the cup down on a nearby shelf before pining his gaze on Quentin. 

“So. You’re an omega now. Gonna be a bit of a problem.” He drummed his finger absently on the shelf next to his while roving his narrowed eyes over Quentin in an assessing look.

Quentin crossed him arms under the scrutiny, gaze immediately seeking the ground. He’d chosen to take the potion to make the best of what he’d thought was entirely bad options, but it seems like Eliot thought he made the wrong call. A sharp pang of shame ran through him. 

He heard Eliot inhale sharply, probably catching the bitter scent of upset omega. That was something else he’d have to watch for now too; he couldn’t easily hide his emotions now by folding into himself, since other parts of his body were now ready to betray his vulnerability at a moments notice.

Eliot voice, now slightly apologetic, pierced his self-hatred haze. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

He supposed Eliot’s words were supposed to be comforting, but all he could think was that they were probably just a bi-product if his alpha instinct to comfort the hurting omega in the room. He stared at the wine shelves off to the side, unable to face him. 

“Q, really. Look at me.” He felt two fingers gently pull on his chin to pivot his head back towards Eliot. He had the same calm and compassionate expression on his face as he’d had in dining room when he’d explained to Quentin that he was going into heat. Looking at it, Quentin couldn’t bring himself to question it’s source, only to soak in the bit of comfort it brought him. 

“Of course I’m not mad you presented as an omega, you idiot. I wasn’t saying you’re the problem, the problem is those annoying Sunerians that have their heads so far up their own asses that they can probably taste the prejudice in their brains.” Eliot said, letting his fingers drop away as he spoke, even though they left a buzzy imprint on his skin. 

Quentin snorted at the image. “Yeah, they’re pretty full of it. I can see why they were never in the books, people probably didn’t really want to read about a fantasy world where omegas are forced to wear harem pants.” Quentin frowned, some particularly gross alphas he’d met in the past crossing his mind. “I think. Not looking forward to that, either way.” 

Eliot swigged the last bit of the wine in his glass, eyebrows raised. He was definitely trying to be somewhat sensitive and suppress a dirty comment about Quentin and silky flowing trousers. 

“Look, fashionably questionable sex pants aside, we do need to figure out something to do about your upcoming... issue.” Eliot’s voice took on a bit of an uncharacteristically serious tone. “How much do you already know about omega heats?”

“Um, honestly? Not much.” Quentin said with an embarrassed winch. 

Eliot huffed out an exasperated sigh that Quentin tried not to take too personally. “Of course you don’t. Lucky for you one of my undergrad hookups was an omega who loved to moaned about all his problems, including the heat-related ones. Oh, Steve. I learned more about omegas from him then his sad 1.9 GPA ever learned in college.” Eliot said, looking a bit fondly exasperated at the memory.

Quentin gritted his teeth at an unexpected surge of aggressive jealousy. He’d heard Eliot throw around stories about causal encounters plenty of times, but for some reason right now it was grating on him. 

“Get to the point, Eliot,” He bit out in a slightly harsh voice that he regretted immediately.

Instead of offending him, his sharp reaction only seemed to draw in Eliot’s attention. “Well, alright then. I’m guessing at this point you’ve already started nesting? Feeling a bit more... touchy, in more ways then one? Maybe something like a hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach?”

Quentin said nothing, frozen momentarily at the confirmation that his earlier suspicions about his strange symptoms had been correct. Finally, he nodded.

Eliot gave a little “hmm” at his response. “Bambi was right, you are pretty far into it. So here’s your options, as best I know them.” His expression shifted back into one of delicate sympathy, clearly bracing himself for the conversation in a way that made Quentin nervous. “One, you can take the suppressants and hope like hell that makes your heat stop in it’s tracks. It’s risky and kinda putting all your eggs in one basket, but it could work.” He ticked off the option on his finger as he spoke. “Two, you could just say screw it and leave the castle entirely and spend your heat discovering your body somewhere else. But, it’ll probably be a rough one considering you’re already building a nest, and from what I know it’s pretty painful to be in heat away from it.” He ticked off the second option on another finger. So far Quentin wasn’t liking any of these.

“Third option. You get an alpha you trust to help you through it. With a cocktail of suppressants and alpha pheromones, you could probably keep your shit together long enough to ride out the week.” Eliot ticked off the final option while looking him directly in the eye. Quentin thought there was maybe an offer there, but he couldn’t be sure. Eliot had always been flirty with him, but this was another level. More intimate.

Quentin cleared his throat before his spoke, not trusting his voice not to crack. “Would it... would if have to be sex?” 

Not that his hormone-filled body really minded the idea right now, but he hated the idea of Eliot tolerating helping him through his heat in _that way_ only because he felt obligated as a king and a friend. 

A flash of something Quentin might’ve thought was hurt passed over Eliot’s face before he could focus on it. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to endanger your purity. Being physically close and sharing scents exclusively for the next week would probably be enough.” 

Quentin rolled his eyes at the old virgin quip, but decide to ignore it in favor of moving on. “I said I was going to do whatever I could to stay in Whitespire, so I guess that... leaves me with option three.” He said slowly, allowing his gaze to finally connect his Eliot’s. The other man was still maintaining his aloof air of disinterest, but Quentin knew him just well enough by now to see the bit of nerves rattling around in him. He just wasn’t certainly what those nerves stemmed from. He gathered up own courage before continuing,

“To be honest, I don’t really know many people here in Fillory, much less any alphas. I don’t even really know that many back at Breakbills.” He huffed out a slight laugh at the irony. Most alphas has always seemed a bit intimidating or off putting in him, and he never thought he’d need one, so he hadn’t bothered to go out of his way to befriend any of them. So, he was severely lacking in alpha companions, aside from... 

“The only alphas I really trust are you and Margo.” 

Eliot’s soft brown eyes studied him intently. Even though he towered over Quentin in what could be an intimidating height, he could see a unspoken bit of vulnerability in him in the moment. 

“Margo definitely hates the Sunerians enough that she’d help you if you asked.” Eliot said, voice sounding a bit strained with the uninvested air he was trying and failing to project. 

Quentin hadn’t realized until that moment how much the space between them had shrunk. Neither of them were holding their wine goblets anymore, and it left Quentin wondering what to do with his hands. He could feel the warmth radiating off of Eliot, and it was hard not to give into the urge to curl up into it. It was a new and intense feeling. This was his friend, the man he’d fought side by side to save the world with, the man who was probably just offering to be kind to the sad, scared omega he’d turned out to be. Still, a deceptive little spark in the back of his mind told him that Eliot wasn’t _that_ nice of a person to be willing to spend a heat with an omega felt nothing for. That minuscule flare of hope was enough to prompt his next question.

“Would you be willing to do it, Eliot?” He said softly, cringing a bit internally at how insecure his own voice sounded.   

A stiffness in Eliot that he hadn’t previously noticed was there seemed to melt away a bit. A slight tired smirk crept onto the corner of his mouth. “I suppose heat hormones are as good an excuse as any for a guy to experiment.”

Before Quentin could protest that - yes, he was uncertain about a lot of things in his life, but he did know what he liked - Eliot cupped the back of his neck, drawing him closer, their clothes were almost brushing. It was hard to focus on anything besides Eliot’s lips as he said, “If that’s what you really want, then I’m going to scent mark you now. Better to start as soon as possible. Okay, Q?”

 

God yes, he was more then okay with it. Maybe the heat was coming on even faster then they thought, because at the moment he didn’t think he wouldn’t do anything Eliot asked. 

At his broken noise and head nod of confirmation, Eliot slide his hand down from

Quentin’s neck, over his shoulder, not stopping until he clasped his forearm. Reaching up, he mirrored his grip on Quentin’s other arm. 

“The easiest way to transfer scents,” Eliot said, voice a bit on the raspy side. It made sense to do it this way, as scent glands on the wrist were easier and bit more impersonal to get to then the ones on the neck and groin. Still, he could feel the uptick in Eliot’s heartbeat as he rubbed the tender flesh of their wrists together in a slow sliding motion that Quentin was trying his best not to let remind him of the dirty drag of sex. He chanced a glance at Eliot’s face, who was watching their interlocked arms with more intensity then he had been expecting. He imagined that the pheromones leaking out of his body were being to affect him at this close of a proximity. He knew the heat hormones were beginning to work on himself potently enough. The boldness of the rush of chemicals helped pushed him to take a further risk.

“Um, maybe it would last longer, or be more effective if-” In lieu of finishing the sentence, Quentin tilted his head to the side, baring his neck in a meaningful gesture. 

Eliot’s attention dialed in on the movement immediately. A hungry look fell on his face, and in that moment Quentin didn’t think he’d ever seen him look more like an alpha. He shuddered. 

Eliot’s hand snaked it way back up to his neck, this time brushing aside his hair before finishing the movement by pulling him in close to his body. For a moment neither of them moved any further, simply pressing again each other. The solid warmth of Eliot’s body against his was a balm he didn’t even know he was craving until he received it. Some part of him that had been internally trembling with anxiety since he presented went quite for the moment, pacified by the alpha’s closeness. Eliot hand, resting on his vulnerable neck, only made him more confined and secure.

He finally caught his first clear whiff of Eliot’s scent, which, since the alpha wasn’t in a rut, wasn’t nearly as strong as he was sure his own was. But, it was no less lovely. At first he thought he smelled lightly of a slowly blooming spring garden, but there was something else beneath it. A hint of more smoky cedar or pine, maybe? Before he could catch himself, he was nuzzling his face further into Eliot’s chest to chase to soothing scent.

Eliot made a wounded sound that tumbled through where his chest connected with Quentin. Instinctively, he began to panic, thinking he must’ve done something wrong - but no. Eliot was wrapping his other arm around his waist to pull him in tighter. He lowered his face to the junction of Quentin’s neck, rubbing the slight stubble of his face against the sensitive skin there. Each little scrape felt as if it was lighting up all the nerves in Quentin’s body, and his hand reached out to grab a fistful of the back of Eliot’s shirt without thought. Something primal within him was so satisfied with the moment - the fleeting feeling of El’s plush lips occasionally passing over his skin - even as it was begging for more. They hadn’t even really discussed any of the specifics of how they were planning to do this, but Quentin’s body seemed to have its own intentions. A still-conscious corner of his mind was valiantly trying to alert him that if this continued for much longer, Eliot would soon be feeling the shameful proof of Quentin’s impending heat and lack of control pressed against him- 

Yet sudden banging on the door derailed that train of thought before it could ever really leave the station. They jumped away in surprise, both staring at each other, a bit startled by how things had escalated.

A familiar annoyed voice reverberated from the other side of the door.

“Hey, assholes! I got your rabbit, and also fifty dollars worth of the fucked up crackers it landed on that I had to buy. You wanna come out now and tell me what’s going on?”

Well, it was was safe to say Penny had gotten their message. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, there’s Penny back from the rabbit misadventure! He was going to originally be featured more in this chapter, but there was a lot of cuddling that apparently demanded to be done. Sorry Penny. Next chapter is your time to shine.  
> Please excuse El’s slight biphobia in this one, it’s a stupid character trait of his that I’m trying to work out. An addition 10 bonus points to you if you spotted Eliot’s (Maybe Hale’s? Not sure who it really belongs to) signature “I’m about to do something intimate/romantic” gesture I slipped into this chapter.  
> Also, if you’re thinking to yourself that Quentin was already having those “empty” feelings before he took the potion, you’d be correct. Unfortunately right now he’s a bit too caught up in the Eliot of it all to focus on that. But I get the feeling that might be important later on...


	5. Penny for Your Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny threatens to make s'mores. Quentin nearly has a life crisis over a scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of warnings for this one. First, there is a kinda sorta mention of mpreg via a birth control mention. That's basically the only hint of mpreg we're going to be seeing in the story though, since that's not really something I'm personally super fond on. Sorry. I did feel that I had to at least address it in some way though, since it's sorta inherent to the nature of the trope.  
> Secondly, minor warning for short paragraph that's almost like a panic attack for Quentin. It doesn't last long, and it's not the focus of the chapter. Feel free to message me on tumblr at [everywitchway-xviii](https://everywitchway-xviii.tumblr.com/) (my main blog) or [peaches-and-proof-of-concept](https://peaches-and-proof-of-concept.tumblr.com/) (my Magicians blog) if you have any detailed questions about that.  
> Okay, now that that's out of the way, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Penny was really fun to write, and I hope his characterization comes off as authentic in here.  
> P.S. - Also, I have three long essays due before the 20th of May, so this may be the last update for a little bit. Sorry guys! Just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't panic if you didn't see material for a bit. I'll definitely be back when they're done.

Even though Penny was banging on the door so hard it sounded like he was launching siege on it, Quentin and Eliot stood for another moment, frozen, staring at each other. A hint of uncertainty had crept onto Eliot’s face, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of what had just happened between them. Quentin wasn’t sure what to make of _any_ of it.

“Yo, morons! I can hear you breathing in there! Just open the goddamn door!”

Irritated, Quentin yanked the door open. “Jesus, Penny, what?”

Penny stood on the other side, looking supremely pissed at the situation.

“Hey, your ungrateful ass should just be happy I’m here after all the trouble your fucking bunny caused me,” he said, shoving dented box of graham crackers into Quentin’s chest. “You owe me about forty-six bucks for that.”

“For one box of graham crackers?!”

“It wasn’t just one box,” Penny replied, darkly. “You’re lucky I don’t make s’mores out of you.”

Before Quentin could think of what to say to that, Eliot intervened.

“Okay, let’s all calm down before anyone gets roasted over a fire.” Stepping slightly between the two so that Quentin was behind him, he added, “Did you bring the stuff we asked for?”

Penny’s anger seemed to fade a bit, replaced by a slightly skeptical expression. “Yeah, I did.” He held up a bulging drugstore bag. “What is all this about anyways? I mean, Quentin’s no omega, if he was I would sure as fuck know since he was my roommate for…” Penny’s voice trailed off there, nostrils widening as he clearly caught a whiff of Quentin’s new omega smell.

Quentin felt his face redden. This as the most embarrassed he had been around Penny since he’d caught him singing along to Taylor Swift in his head.

“Well, fuck. How did I not smell that when I walked in?” Penny’s nose crinkled up. “God, what were you two doing? It stinks like horny alpha and omega in here. How the hell did this even happen?”

Quentin briefly contemplated shaking one of the champagne bottles to see it if would explode and let them all forget this conversation ever happened.

“So, Quentin might’ve been had a couple of sips from the Fillorian version of an Alice in Wonderland ‘Drink Me’ bottle and now he’s presented as an omega,” Eliot replied, glossing right over answering Penny’s other question. “Which would be no biggie, except-”

“Except he smells like he’s almost a week into pre-heat. Jesus, didn’t I just bring you here for some political shit?” Penny shook his head in disbelief. “Only you could fuck up diplomacy so much that you ended up turning yourself into an omega.”

Anger rapidly boiled up in Quentin in a way that only Penny had ever been able to draw out. Plus, it didn’t help that this heat seemed to be bringing all his emotions close to the surface.

“Hey, I did what I had to do, okay? I only took the potion because you have to be presented to even matter in the eyes of this stupid, backwards society.”

Penny held up a hand to stop him before he went any further. “You mean these people still do things according to dynamics here? That’s fucked up. And wait, you’re telling me that Fillory has a magic potion that helps people present? Just like that? What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Except apparently some of your secondary traits are really strong for a while? We didn’t know it was going to put me into heat though.”

Penny groaned. “I don’t think it put you into heat. You smell like you’re maybe,” He paused to purse his lips and gave the air another deep whiff. “Five days into a pre-heat.”

The empty feeling that had been winding through him the past few days came to his mind unbidden. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about it since he presented, but looking back, it did sound eerily similar to the few things he’d overheard omegas say about their experiences in the years past. But that would mean – that even without the potion, if he had just waited a couple more days, he-

“But I only took the potion yesterday. Couldn’t it just be a really intense heat from that? I mean, what if my body just reacted badly to it and it just smells stronger,” Quentin said, grasping at what explanation he could.

Penny shook his head. “Oh, your body reacted badly to it alright. It smells like this heat is going to be a doozy. But that’s not what I’m saying. Trust me, as an omega I know what a pre-heat a few days into it smells like. It’s like – a couple of days of dirty laundry stacked on top of each other. It can be gross and intense, but all those different layers of scents? It’s distinctive.”

“Fuck.” Quentin turned away, unable to look at the growing sympathy in Penny’s eyes. He was one of the last people he wanted pity from. Eliot was looking down at him with worry, and something else in his face that Quentin could quite place. His easy relaxed body language from earlier when he’d held Quentin was gone, replaced by something more like what he was used to seeing from him in the throne room when he was facing a difficult diplomatic problem.

Still, he placed a soothing hand on Quentin’s shoulder. He flinched, feeling like he didn’t deserve the comforting gesture. After all, he was the one that had gotten himself into this mess. If he hadn’t interfered with things, if he had just paid more attention to his body, this wouldn’t be happened. At least, not like this.

As if he could read his mind, Eliot said, “Don’t freak out about this, Q. You were making the best call with the information you had. God knows I’ve made worse decisions with less.” A hint of a self-degrading smile curled on his lips. Quentin forced a small smile back at him, feeling a little comforted at Eliot’s words. Hopefully his friend was still committed to helping him through this, despite his fuck-up.

Penny cleared his throat. “Yeah, also, I hate to be the barrier of bad news, but these suppressants you had me bring? They aren’t going to do jack shit now.”

“Is there anything we can do to make it easier for him at this point? I know first heats aren’t always… pleasant,” Eliot said with a slight grimace.

Penny gave him a curious look, like he was wondering where Eliot had gotten that tidbit of information from. “You mind if we steal your wine cellar for a minute? This is kinda an omega-to-omega thing.”

Eliot waved them off like it was no big deal, even though his eyes were tracking Quentin’s reaction careful. “Of course. Help yourself to all the wine you want. Just don’t touch the 1974 bottle of chardonnay. It was a birthday present from Margo and we’re saving it to celebrate the day we finally figure out how to get running water in this place. If you need me, I’ll be in the throne room.”

Eliot opened the door to leave, then hesitated for a moment on the threshold. With a quick movement, he unwound the scarf he was wearing from around his neck before holding it out towards Quentin. It was one of his decorative scarves that served no purpose besides being pretty, the material a thin silky white which looked gauze-like and translucent in the low candle light of the cellar.

“Here. This might help.”

It was obvious the Eliot was acutely aware of Penny’s presence in the moment based on how he was ignoring him entirely, which meant that he was probably more nervous then he let on. Quentin wasn’t used to seeing Eliot as anything really other then the confident alpha, so this glimmer of uncertainly made him consider for the first time that he might have been in more uncharted territory with the whole heat-managing thing then he let on. It was strangely touching to know that his friend might just be as nervous as him, but was willing to metaphorically, and at the moment, literally extend a hand to help.

“Thanks,” Quentin said softly, taking the scarf from Eliot’s hand. He rubbed the soft material between his fingers, the movement releasing a brief wave of Eliot’s scent from where it had been tucked up against his neck. Quentin’s mouth watered involuntarily. He supposed Eliot had probably given it to him for his nest, so that he could incorporate his scent. Glancing back up, he caught Eliot’s watching him examine the scarf for a moment before clearing his throat and closing the door behind him.

It was quiet for a moment after Eliot left. It took Quentin a second to realize he was looking down at the scarf and smiling softly before he looked up to find Penny staring at him, mouth agape.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“Wanna explain what the hell was that about? Also, damn, calm the fuck down while you’re at it. I can smell you slick from over here and I don’t even want to know what’s going on in your head right now.”

Quentin felt caught somewhere between annoyance and embarrassment. He was glad the other omega was planning on helping him, but it was times like this that he occasionally thought back fondly on the time he blasted Penny across the yard with battle magic. He shoved the scarf into his pocket and out of sight.

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, Eliot’s one of the only alphas I know and trust here, so he’s helping me out with controlling my heat, okay? He’s just doing it to be a good friend, and they sorta need me there to meet the delegation. So, we’re just doing what we need to keep me functional. It’s just… practical.” The words stung a bit to say, but it didn’t make them any less true. No matter how things may seem – or how he might want them to seem – it was important for him to remember the facts.

Penny snorted and gave him a look like he was being a special kind of idiot. “Yeah, okay. I’m glad I brought these then.” He reached into the bag he had brought with him, tossing a small pink cardboard box Quentin’s way. Catching it, he turned it over to read the label that said: ‘Omega Birth Control for the Man on the Move: A Fast-Acting Heat-Friendly Formula! Now in dissolvable tablets.’

There were several implications there that Quentin was wholly uncomfortable with. He stuttered to reply. “Yeah – um – no – me and Eliot, it’s not like that. It’s just - ”

“Practical. Yeah, I know, you said. But the two of you aren’t exactly making decisions with your brains at the moment. Especially not Eliot. God, I can’t even blame him. Have you even smelled you? Omega’s can’t even normally smell each other, but you smell delicious as fuck. It’s disgusting.” Penny made a screwed-up face, like he’d rather travel into a volcano then think of Quentin sexually. Quentin, for what it’s worth, thought the same thing about him.

He shook his head. “I really don’t think anything like that is going to happen. We’re probably going to be too busy with the delegation to even think about… that.” He reached out to hand the  box back.

Penny didn’t even glance at it. “Keep it anyways. Don’t underestimate the power of hormones to make you do some stupid shit.” There was a bitter edge to his voice, and something dark in his expression that made Quentin think that the advice was coming from firsthand experience. He shivered at the thought.

Clearly Penny picked up on either his reaction or his thoughts. He sighed, looking exasperated with the whole conversation. “I’m not saying that Eliot it going to do anything you don’t want.  Consent still applies, heat or no heat. I’m just saying that things run hot during a heat. Emotions… get intense. There’s biological drives that are hard to ignore. And since you gave yourself a magical whammy for your first one and are now trying to repress the shit out of it to go do Fillory crap, I wouldn’t be surprised if the stress made you cave into something, eventually.” He tapped the box in Quentin’s hand. “You don’t have to take ‘em. But it’s your body. You should get to decide what happens to it,” he finished with a shrug.

Penny’s words felt like they were finally driving home the reality of his situation. He really was an omega now, with all the real-life complication and repercussion that came with. His scent could actually, possibly be enough to change how his friend thought of him. What if Eliot had only offered to help him because of that? And choices about birth control were something he apparently had to make now? God, how was he going to make it through this week, never mind the rest of his life? He was suddenly aware again of the feeling of the slick on his legs he’d been ignoring, now partially dried and stuck to his pants in places, and fresh and wet in others from the scent of Eliot he’d caught off the scarf. His clothes felt tight and rough on his body, and the bulge of the scone in his pocket reminded his growling stomach that he had yet to eat anything today. The empty feeling he’d been experiencing before all this even started began to pull at him again. And was he sweating? Was it this warm when he came in here? You definitely weren’t supposed to keep wine somewhere this warm. He should probably tell Eliot that, he thought manically. Catching a whiff of the musty, vaguely wine-scented air of the cellar made his head spin, and Quentin to begin to feel like the atmosphere of the room was thickening, making it hard to breathe –

Suddenly, two hands were clenched around his arms, bringing him back for a moment. There was a tiny jolt of magic in them that made it feel as if he was rushing back to awareness in body. He found Penny was staring seriously into his eyes, all traces of mocking gone.

“What the hell was that?” Quentin asked, dazed. It felt like all his senses had been dialed up to ten and were getting ready to plug straight into his anxiety. Even now, he could feel the tug of it on the edge of his awareness...

“Quentin, focus. If you’re going to try to be out around other people, you can’t let this shit overwhelm you. It’s going to try to, but you have to try to ignore the sensory overload.” He looked reluctantly to admit it, but he said, “Eliot probably will actually be useful for this. He’ll give you something to center yourself around when shit start to feel off the rails. I was able to bring you out of it with some sympathetic magic now, but it won’t work like that once your heat starts.” Penny dropped his hands and picked back up the bag. “I also brought a shit ton of powerbars and those dumbs hummus and pretzel cups I always see you eating. And Gatorade. I have no clue what the food is like here, but you need easy stuff to eat to keep your energy up. It’ll help keep everything from feeling too overwhelming. There’s some scent blockers in there too, deodorant and soap kind. Washing is going to be hard once your heat hits, but try to do it in the space between the really bad urges.”

Quentin accepted the bag gratefully, slipping the box of birth control that he was now convinced he’d be taking into the sack as well. The sight of the pretzel cups, a familiar indulgence in the raging ocean of batshit crazy newness currently surrounding him, was more comforting then he ever thought prepacked snack food could ever be. He felt a little bit like crying at the sight of them. Penny really wasn’t kidding about those hormones.

Speaking of Penny. “Um, thanks. I mean, actually thanks. I really don’t know as much as I should about omega stuff. I never would’ve thought to get have this stuff,” Quentin said, gesturing vaguely at the bag and trying form his face into the most grateful expression he could.

Penny scoffed. “No shit. I haven’t forgotten about that time you asked me if I got periods. You’re so ignorant it’s almost sexist.” His face seemed to reluctantly soften. “But I remember my first heat. Shit can be rough.” He gave a little ‘what can you do’ shrug at that. “Look, this is a one-time offer only since this is your first heat. If you have anymore questions you’re dying to get an answer to, you can send a rabbit and I’ll answer. Just make sure you tell it to land on the goddamn floor this time.”

Quentin’s eyes flicked over to the graham cracker box on the floor. He really needed to get the whole story on that later.

“Sure, I can do-” He looked back towards Penny as he spoke, just in time to see him flicker out of existence.

“- that.” He finished to the now-empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about the hummus cups is actually a reference to ["echo, the echo"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18508174/chapters/43861165) by [graywash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greywash/pseuds/greywash), a excellent 4x13 fix-it fic. It's also a WIP, but I definitely still recommend checking it out if you're looking for a good read or another story to follow along with.


End file.
